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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24555037">Black Magic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes'>marimoes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bittersweet Ending, Blue-Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Broody Fenris (Dragon Age), Cave-In, Denial of Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Mutual Pining, Start of Act 3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:55:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,380</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24555037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There is an odd buzzing in Fenris’ left hand. It’s been there all morning, lingering against his skin beneath the leather of his gloves. He didn’t sleep on it or slam it in a door. It’s just… buzzed. </p><p>Shaking it doesn’t seem to help, and after he did it the first time it caught Hawke’s attention. The last thing he needed was for it to catch Hawke’s attention. So when it jerks a little harder, bites a different way, he merely shoves to his side and lets his thumb hook into his pants.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fenris/Hawke (Dragon Age), Fenris/Male Hawke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Black Magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_rosenkov/gifts">m_rosenkov</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There is an odd buzzing in Fenris’ left hand. It’s been there all morning, lingering against his skin beneath the leather of his gloves. He didn’t sleep on it or slam it in a door. It’s just… buzzed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking it doesn’t seem to help, and after he did it the first time it caught Hawke’s attention. The last thing he needed was for it to catch Hawke’s attention. So when it jerks a little harder, bites a different way, he merely shoves to his side and lets his thumb hook into his pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Easy, Fenris. Don’t make a show.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The familiar words flutter in and out of his mind without so much as lingering. All the same does it make his chest clutch in pain, and he grits his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look chipper as ever.” The voice comes from behind, laden with sarcasm. Varric. “Come on Broody, what is it today? Socks on the wrong feet? Ran out of mage tears for your cereal?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Varric,” Hawke warns without turning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The single word is all it takes for the dwarf to fall back again with a sigh. He doesn’t even mutter to himself like he usually does when Hawke brushes him off. Odd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris turns his gaze but not his head to look to their other party member. Isabela isn’t paying attention as much as she’s digging beneath her nails with a sliver of metal. Watching for a moment longer, her focus turns on him and a sharp plink rings in his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eyes off the prize, bud,” Isabela tsks, and it’s only then does Fenris realize the scratch in his shoulder plate. She threw it at him. Hard enough that it would’ve pierced skin. “Though I think you’d rather a different prize—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isabela,” Hawke again warns, eyes set forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? I can’t poke at him now? He was staring at me!” Isabela complains, but falls back next to Varric. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you? Carver?” Varric chuckles. It earns him a hard smack into his shoulder, but nothing more. No metal flung at him at a high speed, typical. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time Fenris can hear the whispering, but can’t make out what they’re saying. Not that he cares. Not that he doesn’t already know what they’re likely talking about. Hawke. Always Hawke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fenris,” Hawke says, but it’s not a warning. It’s a call. One that drives Fenris’ hand to burn a little more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Fenris doesn’t advance, Hawke looks back for the first time since they set out. Recognition seems to flash in his eyes, held with pressed lips. “I need to talk to you about something.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could just stay put. Could just leave the mage to stew in whatever problem he’s having, and is no doubt currently dragging the rest of them towards. To be prepared for it though—Fenris can’t say he wouldn’t prefer that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gap between them is covered in two longer strides until he rests even with Hawke. Their shoulders aligned with respective weapons hanging against their back: a brandished sword and a near matching staff. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just when did he find that one… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Fenris asks, eyes sweeping to the side. Hawke glances at him for a moment, but doesn’t linger. Again, fire tweaks at his skin. “You said you needed something, so out with it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke seems to consider his words. At least that’s what Fenris thinks is happening when his lips barely move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your hand is clearly bothering you. If you had told me, I wouldn’t have taken the chance in bringing you along,” Hawke sighs, and his own left hand curls into a fist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad to know you think that alone would affect my performance. Comforting.” The words drip from Fenris’ mouth, but they hold no poison. No usual bite. “I’m fine. Thank you for the concern—and also for not trying to heal me at the first sign of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke’s brows furrow. “You know I would never do that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Fenris murmurs as he falls back to the middle, “I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mission, as they would have it, went to shit. When does it not, Fenris wonders as his great sword cleaves through the stomach of another spider. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So many fucking spiders. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are there always so many fucking spiders in these caves? Maker’s breath you’d think we would have made them extinct by now,” Varric grumbles, echoing Fenris’ thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gentle rumbling echoes around them, knocking off far walls before settling again letting unease trickle into Fenris’ stomach. He often feels unease, but it never pulls into his notice anymore. It is instead as common as a headache, and brushed off as such. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Varric and Isabela hang behind, each fiddling with chests. At least they’re being useful in the down time rather than commenting, again, about how the skylight looks like an oddly shaped phallic opening. Fenris sweeps the room and finds Hawke is standing farther ahead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head is tilted at the map before looking at the branching paths. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tugging in Fenris’ stomach makes him step toward Hawke. If he were more aware, he would recognize the shift in feeling as comfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he isn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing he is aware of is that the ground is soaked in blackened blood. Thoroughly painting it a color not unlike the walls, the ceiling—the air? Everything is black before Fenris’ eyes at once. Not an ounce of light or color, and if he were not standing the floor may just not exist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gentle glow forms before him and Fenris feels his knees jerk. The desire to slash into it only ceases when it illuminates Hawke’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andraste’s tits, what the fuck was that!” The yell is muffled, but clearly Varric’s. There is a knocking around of rocks, not unlike before, but this time it sounds far more solid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Either a really well done trap, or possibly, nature hates us,” Isabela speculates, “Neither are unlikely.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rumbling of the cavern seems to settle, and the harsh bite of a match being drawn comes from the other side. Fenris only watches as Hawke prods a hand against the jagged barrier before knocking against it with this fist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to know we’ve finally made an enemy of everyone including nature! Varric, Isabela, you have the clear path behind you from where we came in. Use it and go back to Kirkwall,” Hawke commands, voice low and steady without an ounce of panic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not going to just go back to the city with you two in here! We can circle around to the cave’s exit and wait for you,” Varric argues and Hawke sighs, “Listen, at least let us scope it out so if we need to there won’t be a fun surprise of, I don’t know, dragonlings waiting for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris makes a small noise of approval. It wasn’t intentional, but it draws Hawke’s attention all the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not the worst idea. We have no clue what’s ahead of us and if we make it out of that only to be thrown into a new fire—I’d rather not,” Fenris explains, leaning his weight back onto his right foot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke’s lips press into a thoughtful line again. It’s endearing to watch him consider things when he so often just charges ahead. Oftentimes it seems like only Fenris causes it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How curious.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Circle back around, but watch yourselves. We were only down here for a collection anyway. If we don’t come out in two hours, you have to go back to Kirkwall and get the others,” Hawke says, relent coloring unease into his tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isabela says something that doesn’t quite parse through the stone and Varric answers just as low. There is a hushed laugh, a clank of a hit, and the scuffle of dirt, but no answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understood?” Hawke asks in a louder voice. It both bristles Fenris’ neck and makes his chest tighten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye, aye,” Isabela responds, beating a hand against the wall twice before the click of metal starts to fade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke hovers for a moment longer, eyes fixed on the stone until silence again falls over them. Even then, he still doesn’t move forward as he turns. The glow on his hand reaches back to fall against his staff, coating it in a brighter light than before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers bend as he shakes his hand out, and a smile tugs on his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t really keep that up too long or it cracks my skin. How else will I win the Serah Kirkwall competition?” Hawke explains a question Fenris would’ve never asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris fights the urge to reply. After all, he thought fast and kept them out of darkness. His own hand burns a little, but this time it’s pinpointed to the center of his palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain is sharp like he himself is wielding fire within it, piercing straight through without any relent. He curls it into a fist quickly, trying to cut off what can’t be seen, but it continues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking,” Fenris gasps, now doubled over his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears Hawke step forward, but he doesn’t feel him touch him. Doesn’t hear him. Hawke is merely waiting steps away, just as he has been all this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fire snuffs out all at once, leaving Fenris’ head to swim and knees to buckle, but he doesn’t hit the ground. He’s instead caught by a single arm wrapped beneath his own and a hand that presses tight against his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, I can’t have you passing out in here. If we hurry, we can make a beeline to the exit,” Hawke murmurs, tugging him back up to stand. Even when Fenris regains his footing, Hawke doesn’t retrieve his arm. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes look just as resigned as they did that night years ago. Held with fire warming the edges, cradling truth Fenris doesn’t want to hear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gritting his teeth, Fenris jerks from Hawke’s hold to stumble a step backwards. “I’m fine. Let’s just get out of here already.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke only nods and pulls the paper from his hip. Moving towards the right, he continues forward coated in light that Fenris has no choice but to follow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glow that sits on him must be how the city sees him now. A shining champion of Kirkwall that took down the threat that nearly killed them all. How Fenris wishes he too could buy into that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would make his head feel better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nearly half an hour passes in silence as they walk the path. No major threats presenting themselves apart from two separate spiders, but between the two of them it was nothing. And it felt odd—just the two of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris is so used to being with their party of four all the time. The members within it may change, rotated out for who gets on his nerves the most, but it’s always four of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moments he’s alone with Hawke have always been combative, but never in the way he feels safe to be so. When he’s alone with him, all he has are his words. Weak and unmeaningful as he stares down brown eyes and a warm smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Makes him ill each time he would leave for his own space, which truly still isn’t his either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris has nothing he hasn’t gotten for himself and even then it’s all questionable when Danarius returns. Because he will—it’s only a matter of when. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fenris.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking up, Hawke is still faced forward, and moving up the stairs they’re currently on. The wood bends, creaks a little louder, as he skips steps to reach the top in two more strides. Fenris does the same, though it takes him three, but it lands him next to Hawke at the top regardless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Is there something ahead?” Fenris asks, hand already reaching back to curl around the hilt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that I can hear. I just—I have to talk to you,” Hawke says, shifting toward him with his hand out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris’ eyebrows furrow in irritation. “Talk to me when we get out of here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Hawke answers, firmer, and his once open hand wraps around Fenris’ wrist, “I need to talk to you now. You’ll just run off once we get out of here, and I need—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris’ jerks backwards, struggling to pull from Hawke’s grasp and sweeps his leg out. It misses, catching nothing but air, and he’s pulled closer against Hawke’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop being difficult! Just listen for once, Fenris,” Hawke argues, breath now blowing against his face. “I only want to talk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let me go,” Fenris hisses, “or else I’ll get myself free.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They struggle for a moment. A quiver of power back and force as both try to get ahead of the other, but Hawke’s hold remains solid. The light against his back flickers as his focus is torn and nearly goes out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not trapped,” Hawke sighs, but doesn’t let go, “That’s what I keep trying to tell you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another hard pull and it fades out, leaving them back in darkness once more. If he wants it back, he’ll have to free him. Good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know the first thing about how I feel,” Fenris bites, jerking back until his hand slips free. Even then he doesn’t move back. He instead stands just as close as before, eyes set on Hawke’s that he can no longer see. “That’s the problem with you. You go around trying to fix everything, but only make things worse. Did you really think fucking me three years ago would solve all my problems?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A noise of exasperation leaves Hawke’s lips and even in the dark Fenris can see his face. “Fenris, I’m not trying to fight you! Will you fucking listen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To what? More soft murmurings of how you’ll make things ok and we can just flit off into the sunset?” Another step forward lands Fenris’ chest pressed square against Hawke’s. It’s heaving beneath the cover of his robes and with a single finger Fenris presses into his clavicle. “I can’t have that. I don’t want that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lips press against Fenris’ without warning. Harsh and unrelenting, Hawke continues forward, stepping between his legs to guide them back until the cold of the cave hits Fenris’ back. His anger isn’t gone as much as it’s tangled in him now, and when Hawke pulls back to breathe, he curses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I couldn’t think,” Hawke groans, “What is going on with you? It’s scaring me, ok? That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris presses his lips together and the taste of Hawke lingers against his tongue. How does he always manage to do this? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> say you’re fine. You’re not fine. You’re also not alone,” Hawke continues when he hears Fenris open his mouth to speak, “I wish you’d understand that already.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish you’d understand it’s not that easy, Hawke,” Fenris says, bite gone entirely once more. Something about this—the dark, pressed against a wall and so called comfort—it has him questioning. “I can’t live while my life isn’t completely my own. I can’t give part of it to you, because I don’t have any part to give.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke doesn’t answer, only kisses him again. It’s softer this time with a hand cupped against Fenris’ chin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if in the meantime, I gave you part of myself?” Hawke murmurs against Fenris’ lips and the words weigh in his stomach like an anchor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Fenris replies, head falling back against the wall as he presses a hand into Hawke’s chest, “You can’t do that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” His tone is more direct again, and Fenris can hear the irritation take Hawke’s voice back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I won’t ah—” Fenris murmurs before shoving harder against Hawke’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The force is weak as Fenris’ hand glows. That sickly blue that haunts him, brighter and brighter until everything is dark again. This time it isn’t just the light or the cave, Fenris feels himself slip back off an edge in his mind and his body goes with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he wakes, the world is no longer dark. Not for lack of trying as the sun is slowly dipping down on the horizon outside the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maker…” Fenris groans, hands pressing against his face. With a quick jolt he realizes they aren’t gloved. His armor is gone entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can lift up, a hand presses him back down. “Stop.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris forces his eyes to focus on Hawke lowering to rest on the edge of the bed. They made it out? They made it to—the estate?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The red that seeps across every inch of Hawke’s room seems to cover him all at once with warmth. He hasn’t been in here in years. A fact that he knows neither of them have let slip out of mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you get me here alone?” Fenris asks, eyes searching Hawke’s face for answers to unspoken questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not completely useless,” Hawke laughs. It’s weak, but it makes him smile a little. “The others circled around fairly fast and found me kicking a spider with you in my arms. Not impressive by any means, but we made it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris is quiet for a moment. His hand no longer burns, nor buzzes like before, but he can’t shake it. What happened? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Hawke answers the silent question, and takes Fenris’ hand within his own, “I had to heal you while you were out, and I couldn’t figure out the cause. So, I’d like to keep an eye on it—if that’s alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris’ eyes close as he tries to think, but ultimately mutters, “Yes. If you wish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence falls on them again. Uncomfortable silence that begs to be kicked down by either of them, and wears thinner by the second. Each breath he draws in, he feels his chest is clawing at him to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To apologize is out of the question in his mind, but for Hawke to have to do it feels far worse. He saved him this time. Again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How many times will he have to do that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll leave before it gets too dark.” Is what Fenris lands on by the time the quiet becomes completely overwhelming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish you wouldn’t,” Hawke replies softly, thumb sweeping across Fenris’ hand, “but I understand you can’t rest here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris sighs. They both know he’s right, seeing as what little rest Fenris does get can only be held within a room streets away. To see a day when that isn’t true—he strives for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You possess something I’ve never seen before. Some kind of magic that makes me feel like I’m going to fall off the edge of the world,” Fenris replies, breaking the silence once more as his thumb weakly returns the same motion, “It sits on you, on your shoulders, and in your actions. But when you—when you hold me it sits on me too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke doesn’t respond this time. He only waits with worried eyes until Fenris squeezes tighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It confuses me, but it doesn’t scare me; at least not like everything else I’ve seen does. Then again, the same could just be said about you.” Fenris’ words are unsure when they fall from his mouth. He’s never said this much, never given this much away, but he’s not surprised that it’s Hawke that’s pulled this much from him without a word. “I’m sorry, I have to go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawke leans in only a hair, eyes focused on Fenris’ face, but ultimately nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fenris lifts up quickly in response, cautiously propping against his arm and presses a kiss onto Hawke’s cheek. Their eyes seem to have a quick conversation of their own, between narrowed lids and languid blinks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fenris,” Hawke warns, but let’s go all the same before lifting off the bed, “be careful.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As his legs sling over the side and the ground again meets his feet, Fenris still feels like he’s floating. Even when his armor curls against his chest as he gathers his things, he isn’t grounded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t until he looks back at Hawke through the closing door of the estate does he again feel the Earth’s pull. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Black magic,” Fenris murmurs to himself, and sets back towards the mansion. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A birthday present for one of my favorite people in the whole world! I love you very much, May. &lt;3</p><p>Twitter: @__moes__</p></blockquote></div></div>
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